A Time for Second Chances
by J.R. Nels
Summary: "Eight years can change a person, Erik. I'm not the eighteen year old girl you fell in love with." "Eight years can't change one thing, Christine Daae. It can't change the love I have for you." A story of sorrow, love, and redemtion E/C. ALW and Leroux
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! So here's a new story I've been writing for a while and I really really like it and I am excited about it. Please R&R! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 1: Prologue

"Please Philippe, you cannot do this! We are family!" I was all but on my knees before Raoul's brother. His steely grey eyes regarded me harshly.

"_Where_ family. Raoul is dead, Christine. Our kinship died with him. I owe you nothing; my brother made no will, and you have no heirs. Good-bye, Christine." and with that, he slammed the door in my face. I managed to grab my small carpet bag and stumble to the graveyard where Raoul had just been buried. I collapsed at his grave, tears hitting the marble headstone.

_My Raoul. _

Why did he have to die? He was only twenty-nine years old. We had our whole life ahead of us before the pneumonia had hit. I was forced to watch my childhood companion and lover wither before my very eyes.

Today had been the funeral and Philippe, who, mind you, we hadn't seen since our days at the Opera, showed up and had the audacity to take everything away from me. I was naught but a country bumpkin to him; and to a heartless drunkard it didn't matter if he turned me out with no other recourses but the clothes on my back. Who would have though when I woke up this morning I would be turned out of my own home.

Dear Raoul couldn't have known his cruel brother would claim everything… that's why he had made no will. Plus, why should he have! He was a perfectly healthy, strong young man. He had figured that I, being his wife, and having no heir, would get everything.

Oh, we had tried for an heir. For five years we tried. But after all that time of us not conceiving, Raoul had come to the conclusion he couldn't impregnate me, while I thought I was barren. Many a-night he had spent cradling me to him while I cried for our lack of children.

Now that he was gone, it made his absence all the more difficult. There were no children to bear his blue eyes, no bed to hold his woody cologne, and now even no house to hold in all of our wonderful memories.

I sat up and wiped my tears, pulling the wool shawl around my shoulders. It was hard to think of my once warm husband rotting and cold beneath me. But I pushed these morbid thoughts from my mind and tried to focus on what to do now. I knew I had hit rock bottom, since thoughts of suicide welcomed my weary and pain-laddened mind to it's icy and unforgiving grips. The only things that kept me from taking my own life was first and fore-most my Catholic faith, suicide being a deadly sin weighed on me terribly. The second was Raoul's last words to me. I could still see his pale face struggling for breath. Tears fell down my cheeks as his cold hand grasped mine weakly.

"Christine," he started weakly. "When I'm gone and buried, g-go back to him."

I paled. "I don't…"

"P-please. I know you love him, Christine. And he loves you. I saw what you two shared on that stage those years ago. You love each other. I-I….I want you t-t-to be h-appy, Christine. Go to him. But n-never forget h-ow much I love you, my lit-tle Lotte." I sobbed and kissed him one last time as the final breath of air left his lungs.

I couldn't deny my husbands dying wish. But how could I go back to Erik? How could I expect the man I betrayed to welcome me back to him with open arms? It was madness. The whole thing.

It was nightfall before I came to my senses and left the graveyard. I knew I had to go to Paris, although I had little money and no where to stay. Madame Giry had taken ill and moved outside Paris with Meg, who was now a Baroness by marriage. But I still had to get to Paris.

Cloaked beneath the night, I snuck back to my house, or now, dare I say, Philippe's. I slipped stealthily into the barn. The horses whickered at my familiar presence. I hurried over to Pierre's stall. Pierre was Raoul's horse and my favored mount. With a reassuring whisper, I slipped the crown piece of the bridle over his velvety black ears and tightened the girth for the saddle. I was starting to lead him out when his finely shod hooves clattered loudly against the cobblestones.

"_Blast_" I whispered softly, remembering I needed to muffle the sound, so I tied clothes around his feathered hooves. I let out a sigh of relief as we galloped away out of sight. Thanking God this wasn't a dangerous road, I continued into the night. I felt like some wraith from the dark stories of the north, spiriting away from trouble with ease.

When I reached Paris's gates at sunrise, I thought I was going to cry of relief. I was safe behind these walls. These stone walls that had withstood many-a battle and revolution.

I rode to an inn near the Opera and paid for a room, collapsing on the rickety bed in exhaustion. I wanted to die. It just felt easier than wasting away here with a broken heart. "I need to got a job." I told the cracked ceiling, figuring I'd go looking tomorrow. The Opera wanted me no more; I was considered "bad luck" from the events that took place those years ago. I could probably swing a waitressing job though. I closed my eyes, willing the heady confines of sleep to take over. The old childhood prayer ran through my head, words now seeming something darker.

_Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take…_

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"Alright miss. You can start now." The gruff, burly man tossed an apron to me. I plastered a grateful smile on my face and followed him as he showed me how to work tap and such. Working at a bar wasn't my ideal job, but it was a job. I needed the money. The only thing that worried me was the fact that the night crowd would get… rowdy, to say the least. I took a deep breath and readied myself for what was to come.

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**A/N: Wow… sad chapter. Sorry guys. It will get better soon. Oh, plus a certain masked man will appear next chapter! So ya. Please R&R! God bless**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. Life has been really crazy lately. Please R&R!**

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" Christine! 'Ay, over 'ere beautiful. Pour me another." I rolled my eyes and poured the drunk another pint. He looked me distastefully up and down. I shivered and returned to the bar. After a month of working here, I knew the regulars, but I hated every moment of this job. It also didn't help that this was a Saturday night, our busiest of the week. I pulled my hair into a tight bun and continued working the tap.

I didn't notice him come in. It was loud and someone was sawing away on a fiddle, but the moment I heard his voice call for a bottle of cognac, the pint I was holding fell to the ground and shattered into jagged pieces. I didn't dare turn, even as I heard the swell of drunken laughter assail me from my clumsiness. I dove for the glass, cutting my finger in the process. I winced in pain as the cut mixed with the alcohol.

Suddenly my hair stood on end and a cool chill washed up and down my spine.

He was right behind me.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" His angelic voice tainted with concern.

"Uh… I'm fine." I kept my back turned to him as I tried to pick up the pieces, sticking my bloodied finger into my mouth. In my scramble to pick up the glass I cut myself again, letting a small curse to pass through my lips.

"No, you're not." He walked in front of me and kneeled down. My breath caught in my throat as his heady, masculine scent washed over me. I only prayed that he wouldn't see who I was.

But he did.

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"C-Christine?" His blue-gold eyes grew large. "What are you… Why are you here?"

I trembled. "I-"

" Hey, Christine! Get up and back to work now!" my boss grabbed my wrist and shoved me back to the bar. Erik tensed, eyes glowing with anger. " Hey mister, no customers behind the bar." To my surprise, he complied reluctantly, disappearing into the night.

It was three in the morning before I was closing up. I started down to my flat, head down against the cold blasts of wind.

I wasn't alone.

"Hello, Erik."

He stepped out from the shadows. "Hello." He stepped closer, keeping an appropriate distance between us. "How are you?"

"I'm… well." I fidgeted with my red scarf.

"Why are you working in that…_ hell hole_? I highly doubt your husband is letting you." He spat out the word husband, causing tears to form in my eyes.

"He died five weeks ago."

Erik grew quiet for a moment. "Why are you here then?"

I sighed and pushed a stray curl from my forehead. This felt…_ surreal_… talking to Erik again. "I don't have a home."

His eyes flashed. "He promised me… that bastard promised to provide for you when I let you two go!"

My anger swelled at his cruel words. The answer I spat back was cold to my own ears. "He didn't know. Phillipe claimed everything because Raoul had no will. It wasn't his fault."

We fell into an uncomfortable silence as he started following me in the direction of my flat. I didn't want to tell him why I had come to Paris… Not yet.

"Why were you at the bar?" I asked, still curious as to why he was in such a public place. He looked down at me, seemingly surprised a the question.

"I needed a new bottle of cognac. My decanter had run out."

"Oh."

Somehow we ended up on a bench, his jacket around my shoulders. We just sat there watching the snow fall on the quiet cobblestones. He finally shifted, asking me the question I had been dreading.

"Why are you here, Christine? Why are you really here?" He regarded me closely.

"I..I don't know. Before Raoul died, he… he told me to come here and seek you out. He was convinced I never stopped loving you."

He blinked, eyes growing wide with shock. "Do…do you?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I'm still mourning, Erik."

"But it was his dying wish…"

"I said I don't know, alright!" Overflowed and melted some of the snow at my feet. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet his hurt gaze. "I'm not the same care-free eighteen year old diva I used to be. Eight years can change a person, Erik. I've changed."

His eyes grew determined. "It can never change the love I have for you, Christine Daae. Nothing can. You know that."

I couldn't handle it anymore. His intense stare, the memories that assaulted me, the feeling that threatened to overflow. I sprung up and sprinted all the way to my flat, leaving Erik and our memories in the past.

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**A/N: Sorry for the wait for this chapter guys. I'm off school this week and will hopefully have enough time to update this again. Please R&R! **


	3. Chapter 3

Here's the next chapter! Really short, but I wanted to get something up ASAP. I won't be updating until at least Thursday. Thanks for all the reviews, too. They push me to update sooner! Haha. More reviews= sooner update. Please R&R!

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**I woke the next morning to puffy red eyes from my tears. I had thought my heart couldn't break any more than it had when Raoul died, but I was wrong. My whole body ached with sadness. **

**I slowly got out of bed, dismayed to find I still wore Erik's cloak. No wonder everything smelled of him. I groaned and started to get ready for work, splashing cold water on my face. The girl that stared back at me in the mirror looked barely recognizable. My usually bright, round brown eyes had grown dull and droopy. I had lost a considerable amount of weight in five weeks. My cheek bones were obviously protruding, and I looked a bag of bones. I sighed and pushed my chocolate curls into a bun. Right as I was going out the door to work, I saw a letter on the ground with the all too familiar red skull wax seal. Tears pricked my eyes again as I scooped up the letter with trembling hands and retreated to my room. Work could wait. **

**Feeling as though my legs could no longer support me, I sat and opened the letter. The envelope contained two papers, but I opened the first. His graceful script flowed across the page. **

_**My dearest Christine,**_

_**I know you have changed and you are hurt, so I will respect your wish and leave you alone. The other paper enclosed is a song I wrote for you so that wherever you are in the world, you could sing it and feel close to me. I ask that on every new moon, no matter where you are , take this song and sing it, and I will too. Even if you will never love me, at least allow me the liberty to sing with you. It's all I will ever ask. Remember Christine, my love for you will never die. **_

_**Love, **_

_**Erik**_

**Tears streamed down my face onto the parchment as I opened the other paper and read the song. **

_**I know you're going somewhere new And I know it's never going to feel like home to you But this time the only way around is throughSo keep looking up, on past the birds And keep looking up past the clouds And when you reach up and clear away the stars I will be there where you are**_

**I cried and cried until I had no tears left and I had to go to work. It was torture, and I didn't improve for two agonizing years. **

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**Wow. Melodrama. Haha don't worry, things will get somewhat better for Christine soon. Again, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I don't own Phantom, or Landon Pigg's song "Keep Looking Up". Please R&R! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming!**

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_Christine's P.O.V_

"Momma! Look at the picture I drew!" My two year old daughter toddled up to me.

"Laycee Elizabeth, didn't I tell you not to bother Mommy when she's working?"

"Yes Momma." She sighed and walked back to the table she had been sitting at. I smiled and looked at my watch, seeing my shift was blessedly over. I took my apron off and walked over to look at Laycee's picture. She had drawn herself and her puppy, Maestro, sitting on top of Pierre's sleek back while I stood at his head and looked up, smiling at the two of them. My daughter was so smart and talented for her mere two years.

I scooped Laycee up and walked out into the soft spring breeze, letting my hair fall out of it's bounds and dance about my waist. She looked around at her surroundings, brown-amber eyes as large as tea saucers. I tried to ignore the insults hurled at us left and right, so accustomed to them I was now. Words like _whore _and _bastard child_ assaulted my ears as we walked by. I was so thankful of Laycee's ignorance.

Three years before, I had been raped. I didn't remember much, only that he had been incredibly tall with blonde hair. I was on my way home from the bar when I noticed when someone had been following me since I left. I tried to lose him, only ending up in a secluded ally-way. He smelled of heavy alcohol, so I knew he had been a customer at the bar that night. I was raped then and there, and found I was pregnant with Laycee three weeks later.

Some would think Laycee would have been a burden to a struggling and single young mother, but that wasn't true. Yes, it wasn't easy. But she had also been my constant companion and apple-of-my-eye since the moment I held her tiny bundle in my arms. I also had quit my job at the bar for both our sakes, and now worked for a kindly woman named Mrs. Jacobs, waitressing at her small café.

"Mamma?" Laycee brushed her blonde ringlets from her eyes with a tiny, chubby hand.

"Yes, love?"

" Could we maybe get a treat for Maestro and Pierre? We haven't done something special for them in a while."

"Alright," I chuckled. "How about a bone for Maestro and some oats for Pierre?"

"Sounds good." She gave me a dimpled grin.

We turned into the butchers and ordered some chicken. "You wouldn't happen to have and extra bone for our puppy would you, Alphonse?" I smiled convincingly at our usual butcher's wide face.

"As a matter of fact I do," He said, stroking his curled mustache. "One moment, Madame De Changy." He went out, then came back with a meaty bone and wrapped it in a newspaper with the chicken.

" _Merci beaucoup, Monsieur_!" Laycee called sweetly.

" _Je vous en prie, petite mademoiselle."_ He smiled at her.

For a two year old, my daughter was incredibly intelligent. She was already fluent, could read, and played the piano very well. She obviously had no relation to Erik, but reminded me of him so much.

_Erik._ I had sung for him each moonless night since I received the letter. I missed him terribly and regretted daily sending him away.

After we got Pierre his carrots and visited him at the barn I stabled him at, we headed back to the flat. She greeted our little gold and white Papillon, Maestro. She cradled the tiny fluff ball in her arms and gave him the bone. His furry ears pricked up in excitement. I watched with a smile and began preparing our supper.

An hour later Laycee was bathed and sleeping in bed. I had just settled down with a book and tea when I heard a shrill scream from her room. I gasped and ran to her room, heart racing a mile a minute with fear. Once I was in the room, I was relieved to see she was just in her bed, tears running down her face, and not hurt or in danger.

"What's the matter, Little one?" I pulled her into my lap and she buried her face into my chest, arms wrapped around my neck.

"I-I had a n-n-nightscare, Mamma. I was running, and there was this monster chasing me! I was riding Pierre an-an-and suddenly his feet couldn't move, and th-the monster got me. Oh Mamma, it was so scary!"

"Hush, love. I'm here now. It was only a nightmare." I held her tight against me, rocking her back and forth. I remembered the way I would always wake up after my Pappa died. The "Angel of Music" was always there to sing me back to sleep…

"_Quiet your heart, it's just a dream. Go back to sleep._

_I'll be right here, I'll stay awake as long as you need me_

_To slay all the dragons, and keep out the monsters. _

_I'm watching over you. _

_My love is a light driving away all of your fears_

_So don't be afraid remember I made_

_A promise to keep you safe."_

She finally dozed off in my arms. I tucked her in and put Maestro by her side, feeling exhausted. As much as I loved being a mother, I felt so lonely sometimes. I curled up in my own bed and let my tears hit the pillow. But then I remembered how God had blessed me through my trials…

_Oh Lord, give me strength._

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**Please Review! I may have a beta soon, so spelling errors will be better soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi all! Sorry that I have not updated this story for a while… I can assure you I haven't forgotten it! FanFiction has just been out on the backburner. But I still love you all. Please review and enjoy!**

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"Good morning, Christine! Could I get some more coffee over here?" One of my regulars, Charlie, greeted me as I busted through the door, Laycee in tow, to relieve Mary of her early morning shift. The fawn-haired older woman tossed me my apron and headed out the door.

"Of course, Charlie. I'll be there in a moment." I pinned my curls up and settled Laycee down with her drawing before filling up monsieur Charlie's cup. He smiled his thanks and continued reading his paper. The morning was rather slow, so I was able to settle down for breakfast with my daughter.

"What do you want for breakfast honey?" I leaned against the counter.

" How 'bout a fried egg sandwich?"

I looked at her in surprise. "Really? I didn't think you'd like that, _cherie._"

She shrugged. "I heard monsieur Charlie order one, so it's worth a try."

I chuckled. "Alright then, two egg sandwiches it is!" I went to the kitchen and whipped up two of the delicious sandwiches. I put the plate and a large cup of milk in front of her, while I wrapped my hands around a warm mug of peppermint tea.

"Thank you!" she greedily devoured her breakfast. After taking a drink of milk, she looked up at me with inquisitive eyes, milk moustache highlighting the adorable adolescence in her face. "_Maman?"_

"Yes love?"

"Where's my papa?"

I gasped quietly, utterly surprised by her innocent question. She had never questioned me of her past before, only brightly looked toward the future. What was I to tell her?

"Wh-What do you mean, Laycee?"

She fidgeted with the table cloth, amber eyes regarding me carefully. "Well, I mean… what's a _bastard child_… mama?"

All the color drained from my face and I felt dizzy. How on _earth_ had she found out that word?

"Why would you ask such a thing?" I asked, voice sharper than intended.

"There's some boys… they come in sometimes while you're working. They call me that and say that I don't belong in the world and neither do you. They… They say that if I had a father I'd be normal."

I was burning with anger. How could someone dare talk to my little Laycee in such a way? "Oh Laycee, come here my love." She came and curled up in my lap, burrowing herself into my embrace. I rested my head on her sun-kissed curls. I _had_ to protect my baby girl. "I love you, Laycee. Don't _ever_ let anyone define you. Are… are you happy with our life?"

She nodded slightly. "Yes, I'm happy. But I wish you were happy mama. I know I never met Monsieur Raoul. But I do know that whenever you talk to him you look… More happier."

I chose to overlook my daughter's childish grammar. She was right. Whenever I spoke of Raoul, I smiled. I still loved him, but I felt a certain _closure. _I knew I didn't have to feel guilty if I wanted to love another. I would always look back and treasure the years I had with my dashing childhood sweetheart.

"I just want you to love again, Mama."

I smiled sadly. My little daughter was much too wise for her age. "Alright, little one. I'll try." She nodded, curls bouncing to and fro. But her little brow remained furrowed, contemplating something.

"What's the matter, Laycee?" I cupped her freckled cheek. "Was Monsieur Raoul my father?"

I sighed and shook my head. "No, Laycee. Your father… you will never meet your father, I'm afraid.

She looked down, amber eyes filling with tears. My heart broke for her. My poor little Laycee… she needed a father. I didn't want her to be withheld from that blessing of a father figure like I had since papa had died.

"Come on, _ma petite_, Let's go home."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Yay! Another update. It's summer, I actually have time to write. Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!**

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_Christine's P.O.V._

"Hey, Madeline! I have one order of a croissant with jam on the side." I walked in the kitchen and put on a new pot of coffee for the customers. We had a full house this morning. Madeline and I walked around the restaurant, refilling cups, taking orders, and the like. Suddenly, a familiar face caught my eye.

"Sorelli!" I rushed over to the table where the _prima ballerina_ sat. "It's been years! How are you?"

She looked confused. "I apologize mademoiselle, but do I know you?"

"It's Christine Daae… remember me? I trained as a ballerina at the Opera Populaire… Meg and I and the others used to hide in your dressing room when we were fleeing the 'Opera Ghost'" I chuckled, remembering how easily us ballet girls became frightened at Joseph Buquet's ghost stories.

"Ah Christine… Uh, how are you my dear?" Her eyes darted around the room nervously, looking like a trapped animal.

"I'm alright, and yourself?"

"Well, thank you for asking." Sweat beads shone on her brow. What on earth possessed her to act in such a manor?

I realized with a sinking heart that she was grasping her crucifix feverishly, as if to ward off ghosts and bad spirits.

"Anyway madame, I'll leave you be. Good to see you." I fought back tears as I walked back to the counter. Meg was my only friend left from my days at the populaire that didn't think that my being was shrouded with spirits and trickery, because of the events those ten years ago. But I wiped my eyes and continued working, letting it all roll off my back.

When my shift was over, I poured some apple cider to bring out to Laycee, but when I looked through the crowded restaurant, she was no where to be seen. The only evidence of her was her paper and pencil. I gasped, almost dropping the cider.

"Laycee? Laycee, where are you?" I shouted. Everyone stopped and stared at me as I began to grow hysterical. "_Mon Dieu_, help me! Someone, please, where is my daughter?" Suddenly I felt a warm, plump arm wrap around my waist.

"Christine dearie, what's the matter?" Mrs. Jacobs, the owner, looked up at me with concern in her deep grey eyes.

"Oh thank goodness, Mrs. Jacobs it's Laycee. She's gone… she's not here! She never leaves the restaurant. Where could she be?"

The older woman's eyes grew wide with worry. She had become a grandmother figure to Laycee these past years, and she loved both of us dearly. She stood up on one of the café chairs. "Everyone," She raised her kindly voice above the murmurings. "I'm sorry to bother you all, but it seems as though someone has gotten lost. Has anyone seen a very small girl with curly blonde hair and amber eyes?" The customers all mumbled amongst themselves. Finally, one teenage girl spoke up.

"Well I'm not positive, but I saw a little girl that looks like that… she left the restaurant with a few older children." I didn't hesitate. I ran out, Mrs. Jacobs in tow, and looked around. I saw a group of boys, ranging from Laycee's age to probably twelve, laughing about something. The largest, who appeared to be the leader, spotted me and began running. My heart sunk. _What had they done?_

I ran to the ally where they came from. A small lump lay in the middle. "Oh God…" was all that managed to escape through my constricted throat. I heard Mrs. Jacobs let out a cry as we both ran to my broken daughter's mangled body. I pulled her limp frame to my chest and stumbled back into the restaurant, tears falling into her blonde curls.

Everyone was deathly silent as I laid her on the counter. Finally one good Samaritan came up and offered to get a doctor. All I could manage was a nod as I looked at the light of my life fading slowly on the cold counter.

Mrs. Jacobs wasted no time in assessing Laycee's injuries. Bruises covered her tiny body. Her eyes were swollen shut and her lip was bleeding. But worst of all, her legs bent in unnatural directions and looked as though a carriage wheel had ran over them several times. Cold shock overtook my entire being.

"Mrs. Jacobs, how could someone do this to her? She's naught but an innocent child!" I collapsed to the floor, curling inward as my heart was torn out of my chest. "I can't bear to lose her Mrs. Jacobs. Not like I lost Raoul and my father. I'll die." I sobbed.

"Shhhhh, dearie. It'll be alright." She helped me up and embraced me, allowing me to cry into her shoulder.

At long-last, the doctor came. By now the other customers had quietly left. "Bonjour, madame."

I didn't respond as he began to clean her up and put some kind of balm on her injuries. Once that was over, he assessed her legs, which moved with a liquidity that was utterly sickening. He mumbled something incomprehensible and frowned.

"Ms. Daae, your daughter will live, but…" he ran a hand through his sparse hair. "I don't think she'll ever walk again. I'm so sorry." I kept an even face as I paid him and bundled my baby up for the walk home. I slowly began walking, but everything seemed hazy. If it weren't for Mrs. Jacobs quietly following behind me, I probably would have stumbled into the street with Laycee in my arms. The woman caught me without a word and took Laycee from my arms just before I collapsed onto the wet cobblestones, crying in anguish. _My little Laycee…_ just this morning she was dancing around our flat, amber eyes sparkling and blonde curls bouncing about. Now she lay there… so still… so pale… just clinging to life.

When we arrived, Mrs. Jacobs quickly and gently cleaned Laycee up and tucked her into bed, while I just sat there in horror. After a while, she sat beside me and put a cup of steaming tea in my hands. I tried to snap out my daze and smile at her, but it just turned into tears.

"Hush now, dearie." She pulled me to her and began stroking my hair like a mother would. "You have to be strong for her, Christine. She needs you now more then ever."

I nodded and whipped my tears. "You're right. I'm being selfish. Thank you, Mrs. Jacobs. For everything."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense, child. I'll come everyday and check on you two. Goodnight, love." And with that, she planted a kiss on my head and left.

I sighed and walked to Laycee's room. How was I going to explain when she woke that she'd never use her legs again? A child didn't understand these things, even if they were as wise as my daughter. Gently, I laid down beside her and cradled her against me, just as my papa did when I would get nightmares. I always got nightmares as a child, just as I did now.

" _Papa, I'm frightened. Please hold me."_

"_It's alright, bird. It was only a dream. I'm here now."_

Papa was always so strong. How I wish I could depend on his strength still. _Oh papa, how I wish you were somehow here again. _But now I had to be the rock for my little daughter. I softly began singing a song Erik always sung to me.

"_Who knows when love begins, who knows what makes it start._

_One day it's simply there alive inside your heart_

_It slips into your thoughts, it infiltrates your soul _

_It takes you by surprise and seizes full control…_

_Love never dies, love never falters_

_Once it has spoken, love is yours_

_Love never fails, love never alters_

_Hearts may get broken Love endures."_

The haunting melody was enough to make Laycee breathe steadier and assure me she was in a deep sleep. I got up and stumbled out onto our small balcony, surprised to see it was a new moon. I could only hope Erik, wherever he was, looked to the same place in the starlit-heavens I did. "Oh Erik, I miss you so." I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders tighter.

Call me crazy, but I could swear I felt his warm presence wrap around me in that darkest moment.

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter! Disclaimer: (again) I do not own Christine, Erik, Meg, Buquet, or Sorelli. They are all creations of the brilliant Monsieur Leroux. I also don't own ALW's song "Love Never Dies" from the Phantom sequel of the same name. Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow another update! This is a record for me. Haha enjoy!**

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_Christine's P.O.V_

"Mama? Where are you?" My daughter's groggy, small voice woke me from my troubled sleep. I rushed to her side.

"Good morning, my love." I tried to sound cheery.

"I can barely feel my legs mama…"

I sighed. Here we go. "Yes… you… you were hurt badly, Laycee." I pushed her hair away from her eyes. "Laycee, I need you to think hard for me, ok? Who did this to you?"

"Some boys." Came her slightly disoriented response. "They told me they wanted to show me a puppy tied up in the ally, so I followed them. Then they… they pushed me down an' started hitting and kicking me; they smashed sticks against my legs and told me that bastard children like me didn't deserve to live… that we were from hell." Tears rolled from the side of her eyes down her temples. "I's so scared mama…" her words slurred together.

I kissed her forehead fervently, fury burning inside me. "Don't worry, Laycee. Those boys will never-ever hurt you again love."

"It hurts, mama." She stuck her lower lip out, chin quivering. I gave her some pain killer and allowed Maestro to crawl in the covers before tucking her in and telling her to rest.

Those weeks of recuperation were slow and hard, but I wouldn't have been able to get through it without Mrs. Jacobs. She helped me cook, clean, and even paid me, despite the fact I wasn't working. Laycee even managed to start walking, but very short distances and with the heavy, clanking leg braces we made for her. But she took her hardships in stride, with a grace far too great for a mere two year-old.

One day, Mrs. Jacobs came bustling in, fluttering a letter about. "Oh Christine, dearie! There's a letter addressed to you from England! Oh, do come read!"

I chucked and put down the book I had been reading to Laycee. "Alright, but I don't see what's so exciting."

"What's so exciting? I haven't seen a written word of written English in this bloody town in ages!"

I stifled a giggle. "Mrs. Jacobs! I would thank you to watch your language around Laycee."

"She scoffed. "Oh psh, child. The lass is too young to understand what it means. Now read!"

I carefully read each English word, struggling a bit with comprehension. But what I could understand came as a total shock. "It's from Leeds…" I mumbled and sat down.

"Oh, from Leeds, England? Oh, beautiful countryside, with ancient castles and such."

"They want me to sing at their Opera house, the Grand Theater."

"Oh, Christine! What a fantastic opportunity! I remember reading about that theater opening about twenty-three years ago when I lived in London." She clasped her hands together and smiled excitedly at me.

I sighed, confused. "Why would they ask me, of all the young divas out there? I haven't sung in ten years, and there's 'scandal' surrounding my singing career. I just don't get it."

She sat beside me "Well, I heard that they are a bit unconventional. They throw away society's standards, if you catch my meaning. Imagine having La Daae, the once 'Toast of Paris', pupil of Le Fantome, coming to sing for them? Why, ticket sales would go through the roof! Oh Christine, what an opportunity this could be for you!" The old woman's face grew ruddy in excitement. I looked at Laycee, who observed us with her tea-saucer eyes sparkling.

"What do you think, Laycee? I wouldn't move us an inch if you didn't want to."

She nodded vigorously, curls bouncing to and fro. "Do it, mama! I would love a change of scenery."

Mrs. Jacobs chimed in "Yes! She's right, get out of this house and be the beautiful songbird I know you are." She laid a hand on my cheek. It appeared I was out-numbered.

"Alright! We'll do it." I helped Laycee into her leg braces. "Let me get things settled here, and we'll be on a boat to England by the end of the week." I left the house feeling the most hope I had in a long while."

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**A/N: Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

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"Laycee, I'll put your carpet bag up for you." I took the bag from her and put it on the rack above our heads. She looked out at the English Channel from the window on our boat. I pulled her on my lap, cringing at the harsh sound of the braces clanking.

"Are you comfortable, love?"

"Mhm," She nodded distractedly, eyes sparkling. "I'll miss Mrs. Jacobs, but I'm so excited to go to England mama!"

"Me too sweetie." I kissed her forehead. "Me too."

The boat ride went a lot faster than expected, and before we knew it we were on the train to Leeds. A few days later, we were grabbing our bags and heading on foot towards the inn. Laycee walked terribly slow, tripping and stumbling along the way. Tears of frustration swam in her eyes, but her freckled face showed lines of stubborn determination. Clutching Maestro to her, she steadily made her way.

Along the path we came across a small, smooth stick. On the top, there was the perfect swell for grasping. I picked it up and smiled, handing it to Laycee. She took it, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Uh, thank you for the stick, mama…"

"No," I chuckled. "It's like a walking stick. You can put your weight on it to help you walk."

"Oh!" She giggled and took a few steps, grinning wide. "Oh, _merci_ mama!" She walked much faster beside me now. She seemed oblivious to people's stares, she just strode on.

When we finally found an inn close to the Grand Theater, we bathed and went to bed early. Tomorrow would be a very big day.

_Erik's P.O.V_

"Come on, ol' lad, it's getting late. You work too much."

I turned on the warm piano bench I was sitting on to face the manager, grinning. "You know as well as I this isn't work for me, Robert."

He laughed. "Yes, that's why I hired you." He gave me a good natured slap on the shoulder. "And you're the best maestro we've ever had, Erik. We're honored to have you."

I reddened slightly at the praise. I had forged a surprisingly strong bond with the manager of the Grand Theater, Robert Mackintosh. He took me in and put me as head over all music at the theatre, and also hired me to write new music for premiere opera's for the theatre. He found me wandering the streets after I fled France for Christine, and helped me get on my feet. Why, I shall never know. But I was indebted to him.

"Come friend." He led me out. "Let's get some coffee." I agreed and we headed to our usual little meeting café.

"So," I offered "What's this news you've been blabbering about all day?"

"Well, I found us a new soprano finally!" He rushed to finish, seeing the look on my face. "You'll be happy, Erik. I promise. I wouldn't have asked her without and audition if I didn't know you would like her. You may even know her."

I sat back, worried. "How is that?"

"She was a diva at the Palais Garnier. She was involved in some great catastrophe that made her stop singing, but I've heard she's a real show-stopper.

I paled "W-what's her name?"

"Christine Daae."

My heart stopped. "Christine… Daae? As in La Daae?

He nodded. "Isn't it splendid?"

_No!_ I inwardly screamed._ I promised to leave her alone! She'll hate me! Damnit!_

"Yes," I said distractedly. "Splendid."

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**A/N: Our masked man has made an appearance! Yay! Please review, you'll make my whole day happier *grin***


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! One reviewer asked why Christine had Laycee when she couldn't get pregnant from those years with Raoul. That's because it wasn't that Christine was barren, it was just that unfortunately Raoul could not get her pregnant. Hope that clears things up with everybody. Enjoy!**

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_Christine's P.O.V_

I smoothed my finest dress's blue folds nervously. The marble, echoing office in the Grand Theater was intimidatingly quiet. _Where is the manager?_ I shifted weight uncomfortably.

Finally, I heard the door open behind me. I turned and curtsied at the average-height, kind looking man. He bowed low and brushed his lips across my knuckles in a gentlemanly manor.

"Hello, Ms. Daae. It is my deepest honor to make your acquaintance. I apologize for my tardiness."

"It's quite alright." I winced on the inside at the thickness of my accent on the English words. "Would you be so kind as to direct me to the quarters where my daughter and I will be staying?"

He didn't even bat an eyelid at the mention of Laycee. With a smile, Mr. Mackintosh led me down the large, lavish halls, chattering all the way. I looked around in awe. It felt surreal to be in an Opera House again.

We finally made it to our simple, yet cozy, housing and Mr. Mackintosh left us to get situated. I quickly unpacked our few belongings and put Laycee down for a nap, excited to explore the new theatre.

Somehow I found myself ducking into to auditorium and hiding in one of the far, shadow covered velvet seats, observing the rehearsal currently taking place. A door closed behind me but I paid it no mind, observing my soon-to-be cast mates.

"Alright, alright. Let's get to business, shall we?"

I knew that voice. I knew it anywhere. It was the only voice that could make my soul soar and cause goose-bumps to cover my skin. I sunk low in my hidden chair.

"Alright. We shall start with the ballet in act two." It was him without a doubt. The way his fingers flew across the piano keys with ease proved it. _Erik._ He looked good. He controlled the rehearsal with an air of energetic authority, and he didn't even look as deathly pale as he was before.

_Did he invite me here?_

I stood up, feeling dizzy, and tried to walk out of the aisle to leave the theatre, but I suddenly stumbled on a small lump on the ground. I let out a small squeal as I tripped, Causing everyone to look where the sound came from. I looked down, dismayed to find the little lump was my daughter. She looked up at me through bedraggled curls, amber eyes full of guilt.

"Laycee," I scolded.

"Christine?"

I spun around to find Erik looming over me, while Laycee hid behind me.

"E-Erik," I stuttered. "how are you?"

He smiled softly. "I'm well. And you?"

"Uh, uhm… I-I'm good." I blushed awkwardly and pushed a hair curl from my face. "I was invited to sing here. As, uh, lead soprano."

"Yes, I was just told yesterday." Now it was his turn to shuffle awkwardly about. "Can, uh, will you do me the honor of joining me for dinner this evening?" He took my hand and gently placed a kiss on it. It was only a gentleman's gesture, so I tried to ignore the fact it sent electric sparks up and down my spine. His blue-gold eyes bared into mine. "I would like to talk about… things."

"Of course, I would be honored." I turned and scooped Laycee up, balancing her on my hip. "I just need someone to watch my daughter."

His eyes grew large and his face paled to practically the color of his mask. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.

"Laycee, this is my dear old friend Erik. Say hello." She waved shyly and Erik just continued to stare blankly. "I'll explain more later." I whispered and walked away, cheeks burning. I ducked into Mr. Mackintosh's office. He looked up, surprised.

"Bonjo- ah, hello sir. I hate to bother you on my first day, but I have some matters to attend to and I don't have anyone to watch Laycee…"

"Oh, of course!" He sprung up. "My daughter Jaimee and her friend Allanah would be happy to do it." He rang a bell and an attendant came in. "Can you fetch my daughter and Allanah?"

The attendant nodded and left, soon bringing back two teenage girls. One had dirty blonde hair and green-blue eyes, stark contrast to her friend's dark chocolate locks and deep blue eyes. Mr. Mackintosh put his arm around the slightly taller blonde.

"Ms. Daae, this is my daughter Jaimee. And that's her friend Allanah. They're training to be ballerinas here." Both girls curtsied simultaneously. I returned the gesture.

"It's nice to meet you girls. I remember when I was training to be a ballerina at your age." They smiled shyly. "And this is my daughter, Laycee." The girls cooed at her, saying how adorable she was. "Laycee, this is Jaimee and Allanah. They'll be watching you this evening."

"Please, call me Ally." The brunette beamed at Laycee. Thanking Mr. Mackintosh, we headed over to our quarters. I gave the girls all the useful information. "Oh, I remember what else I needed to tell you." I lifted up Laycee's skirts to show the braces. "She needs these to walk, but they need to be taken off before she goes to bed."

Both girls paled a bit, but Ally quickly covered it with a cheery smile. "Alright, sounds lovely, Ms. Daae. We'll have a great time with Laycee, won't we Jaimee?" She elbowed the blonde, who snapped to attention and attempted a weak smile. The grief in her eyes for my daughter broke my heart.

"Yes, we will have a splendid time." She sat beside Laycee and put her arm around her.

Once I felt they were alright, I hurried to my room, throwing on a burgundy evening gown. I swept up my dark curls into a loose chignon, and put on some tiny dangling earrings. I looked in the mirror, approving the elegant looking girl that peered back at me. I quickly wrapped a shawl around my shoulders, and headed toward where we were to meet.

My heart raced a million miles a minute. I was about to see my angel again! The only man who had ever influenced me as much as my papa had. I prayed silently that he would still approve of me, care for me a little. I felt like a mere bird in the presence of a regal lion when I saw him in that theatre. So inferior and small. Why should he ever care about a care-worn widow such as me?

_Give me strength._

_Erik's P.O.V._

I willed the beating of my heart to a steady, even tempo. Christine, the love of my life, was here with me! I dared to steal a quick glance at her. Two years had matured her. Her wide brown eyes held cares, pain, and wisdom far too great for her twenty-eight years. She was not the child I left her as.

I led her to a small restaurant, sitting down at my usual booth. We sat in silence for a while, until we ordered. The waitress left, and Christine finally met my gaze.

"So…" She fidgeted shyly "Where do I begin?"

I smiled at her nervousness. "How about right where we left off?"

"Right," She blushed softly "Well, I continued working at the pub for a month or so, but then there… there was a, uhm, and accident."

"An accident?" I prodded gently.

"I'm afraid you'll be angry with me. You'll tell me I should have known better than to… than to…" Her words came out in a worried rush.

"I promise I won't be angry, Christine." I lifted her chin enough so she could look in my eyes and see the genuine concern I knew shone there. I tried to push back the side of me that wanted to start doing cartwheels at the fact I was touching her.

"Well, I was walking home, alone as usual, when someone came out from behind me. He shoved me in an ally and… well, he forced himself on me. By the smell of alcohol on him, he'd most likely been a customer at the pub that night. I… I'm so sorry, Erik. I was foolish." She looked at her hands, a single glistening tear sliding down her cheek. "But Laycee came from it, and I love her with all that I am, Erik. After that, I went to work for Mrs. Jacobs, a kindly old British widow who owns a café. She took Laycee and I under her wing. And then I was invited to sing here. So, here I am."

I blinked at all this information, blood boiling. My Christine, my innocent, sweet, fragile Christine, raped? Why, I'd kill the rotten bastard the moment I could lay hands on-

"Erik?"

I looked up and realized I had torn the table cloth, and Christine eyed me worriedly.

"I… I couldn't possibly be angry with you for that, Christine. I just… I…"

Before I could say more, Christine quickly changed the subject. "So Erik, how have you been?"

I desperately wanted to climb across the table and take her into my arms, hide her from the rest of the cruel world, protect her fragile heart from all that tried to shatter it, but I knew I had to keep my composure. I just got Christine back in my world. I couldn't scare her off now. So I complied and changed the subject. "I've been well. When I left France, I don't quite remember much. Let's just say I was in a… fog." _More like a heart broken, morphine induced insanity that drove me to go anywhere. _"Let's just say I wasn't in good shape. Monsieur Mackintosh found me on the streets and let me stay with his family until I could get back on my feet. He gave me a job as Maestro of the theatre, and here I am."

"Well, I'm glad you are doing well." Christine genuinely squeezed my hand in happiness, but guilt flooded my whole being. While she was in Paris, raising a child alone and struggling, I was sitting here in England living a comfy life.

"Erik, I have to ask. Did you invite me here?"

"No, I swear Christine. I only just found out. I wouldn't… I would never break the promise I made to you. I swore I wouldn't ever attempt to contact you, and I didn't." _Oh how I wanted to. All those nights wishing I could have you near me… to have you rest your head on my shoulder…_

"Well," Christine toyed with her napkin. "I wouldn't have minded. "I've realized how much you mean to me, Erik. What a dear friend you are. I… I've missed you."

_Friend._ That dreaded word. But it was better than her hating me. "And I you, Christine. But I swear, I will never let you or your daughter suffer again. I'll always be here for you"

I walked her home, and we exchanged a few formalities before she disappeared into her quarters.

I was shocked… about everything. Meek, innocent Christine… raped? And a mother? I stumbled back to my room. I had a lot to think about.

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I really do appreciate each and every one. Without further ado…**

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_Christine's P.O.V_

I took a deep breath and began singing one of the new arias from the Opera Erik was writing to premiere at the Grand Theater. It was my first rehearsal and though I was worried for the contrary, my cast mates were very kind and supportive, helping me when my English faltered. It was almost surreal to have Erik there, leading the orchestra and singers. I couldn't believe that this patient, shy, quiet man, with a kind spirit and who always treated people well was the same "madman" who terrorized the Opera house those ten years ago.

Laycee sat in the front row, excitedly hanging on each aspect of the rehearsal. After my song finished we took a small break, and I headed down to the house seats to see my daughter. I pulled a shiny apple from my bag, teasingly waving it in front of Laycee.

"Here's a snack, Laycee Elizabeth." I handed it to her and rubbed my nose against hers. "How's my love feeling today?"

"Fine, just a little achy." She answered absently, dimples showing on her freckled cheeks as she chewed through the apple's white flesh. I rested her legs on my lap, removing the braces and rubbing the knots out of the mangled little limbs. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes.

"Hello."

I jumped to see Erik standing right in front of me. "Oh, hello Erik. How are you?"

"Well. And you?"

"Well also."

He smiled a little, that sweet half smile that I loved so much. "You are doing wonderfully on stage. Just practice your English pronunciation."

I sighed. "I know. It's just difficult."

"I know." He sat beside me. "You'll get it in time."

I nodded and looked down at my daughter who slept contentedly in my arms. I smiled and looked over at Erik, who just stared at Laycee's legs. But a look of disgust or discomfort didn't cross his face, rather that of confused sadness.

"What happened to her?" he asked gently.

"A little while ago, back in Paris… people insulted us because I was a single mother. They'd call me a prostitute and Laycee a bastard and all of those kinds of names. I ignored it. They all hated us. Some boys lured Laycee out into an alley while I was working, and they beat her. Mostly her legs. She almost died, Erik." The tears overflowed from my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as I pulled her sleeping form to me.

When I finally looked up into Erik's eyes, they were burning with fury. His fists were clenched tightly. That temper of his was a deadly thing…

"Do people have nothing better to do than intervene in the well being of others? What business is it of theirs who you are? I swear Christine, this is all my fault. If only I hadn't left you…"

"Erik." I whispered as the tears continued to stream from my cheeks. He finally paused from his rant and looked at me, flaming eyes softening at my tears. He kneeled before me and wiped my cheeks with his thumb.

"Shhh, I'm here now. If you'll allow me, I'll never let anyone harm you or your daughter ever again."

I nodded, looking away. This was so bizarre. Gone was the ominous, dark Phantom. Here before me was just a man… just Erik.

But for the first time in years, I felt completely and entirely safe.


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